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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132823">Nightmares and Daydreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_l_o_v_e/pseuds/C_l_o_v_e'>C_l_o_v_e</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sing me a Lullaby, Sing me to Sleep [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Betrayal, Dissociation, DreamSMP - Freeform, Found Family, Hallucinations, Insanity, Internal Conflict, Mental Breakdown, Paranoia, Pogtopia, Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Wilbur Soot, l'manburg, lost family, manburg, poor wilbur :(</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:34:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_l_o_v_e/pseuds/C_l_o_v_e</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the daydreams are worse than the nightmares</p><p> </p><p>or, Wilbur's path of self-destruction</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sing me a Lullaby, Sing me to Sleep [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvenMadderHatter/gifts">EvenMadderHatter</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wilbur’s not exactly sure when he went insane. It’s not like he kept a timetable and calendar to mark down how crazy he was feeling today and oh would you look at that he’s fifteen percent crazier than yesterday. No. It doesn’t work that way. He’s not sure when he had his first psychotic break but he chalks it up to around the time of the election. After all, he still loses sleep at night because of it. It is difficult to rest easy when he knows that every senseless death and betrayal is because it was never enough for him. He had his country and he had his people but he put it all on the line, and for what, the chance that the small population of L’manburg would start listening to him again? He curses himself every night for such a stupid decision when he knows deep down that it wouldn’t have changed a thing anyway. It would take another war for them to see him as a leader again, and even that would be a temporary fix. </p><p>Wilbur won’t deny that he feels himself slipping with each betrayal, each knife in the back. He sees eyes watching him in darkness and hears whispers in silence. The paranoia turns into aggression and the aggression feeds the lingering paranoia. Time seems to dwindle away in Pogtopia and Wilbur feels himself loosening from the roots that held him down. Almost nothing ties him to this world anymore, he doesn’t even know what day it is. He starts losing himself.</p><p>The day he left the little cottage by the windy grass fields, his dad had sent him off to the great lands of DreamSMP with a hug and a whisper of <em> I’m proud of you</em>. In the beginning, Wilbur kept those words close to his heart and used it to keep him fighting. The war for L’manburg pushed him further than anything else. He was too young to lead these troops and his troops were too young to be rebelling against a tyrant. Each counter-strike was another careful sacrifice. On his good days (the early days), those words kept him safe and warm, a dad’s parting gift to a son starting a country. Those words gave L’manburg their independence. </p><p>On his bad days (these days), the words feel like a slap in the face. A curse, an itch that he scratches and scratches at till he’s raw and bleeding. The words feel mocking. He wants to forget that Philza ever told him that. He wants to forget that he carries his father’s pride with him. </p><p>Wilbur sees spies in every corner and traitors by every friend. The shadows that were supposed to cloak and protect Pogtopia twist and turn in the edges of the ravine. He doesn’t really sleep anymore and refuses to if anybody’s near him. There’s a knife under his pillow and a potion of invisibility by his head. Wilbur changes his room every three days to some obscure place so no one can ever find him in his weakest moments. </p><p>He stops singing. He stops making grand motivational speeches all the time. There aren’t any troops to motivate, it’s just him and his brothers. And at the end of the day, he can’t even trust them. Wilbur wakes up with a throat hoarse from screaming and the taste of blood in his mouth. He wakes up in tears and curls up, holding himself together (because he’s so broken if he doesn’t grab onto something he’ll fall apart). </p><p>Wilbur feels like he’s fighting an uphill battle. He can’t trust anybody anymore. Tommy won’t listen to him and his authority has been challenged one too many times (what is he even talking about? To have authority, you have to have people to lead). Techno is rarely seen in the Pogtopia headquarters and every time he comes back, he comes back with better equipment (where is he getting all this stuff from? Whose side is he on?). Eret the traitor wants in on his new rebellion (as if he’d ever trust someone like <em>him </em>again) and he’s left Niki in Manburg for now (how can he welcome someone who tried to run against him?). </p><p>On his worst days, he refuses to look at anyone. These days, people stay out of his way. He looks as bad as he feels with unkempt curls, wrinkled clothes, and bloodshot eyes. He tucks himself away in a bunker containing his many memoirs and plans all thrown haphazardly over the obsidian floors. The writing gets more jagged and incoherent over time to the point where all that’s left of carefully written memoirs are scrawls of black void on paper. He schemes and plots his rebellion (revenge). On his worst days, Wilbur thinks Schlatt is the hero. </p><p>
  <em> Tommy, are we the bad guys? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> W-what? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Schlatt just wants to have a nice festival. Everyone else seems to be doing better. Are we the bad guys? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No, Wilbur! Not in our history. Not in L’manburg’s history.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But what about theirs? Tommy, I say that if we’re going to be the bad guys, let’s be </em>
  <b>
    <em>the bad guys</em>
  </b>
  <em>.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What? Wilbur, stop you’re not making any sense.   </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Let’s blow it up. If I can’t have L’manburg, no one can. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>(sometimes he wonders if his dad would still be proud of him if he could see him now)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Daydreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur has never been so alone in his life.</p><p> <br/>The daydreams aren't always better than the nightmares that plague him in his sleep.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy, of course, hates the idea. Whenever Wilbur turns around now, he can’t help but notice Tommy skirting back, avoiding his gaze. Now, with every mention of Manburg, Tommy flinches (why? Is it the idea of Manburg going up in flames, citizens screaming, and legacies falling? Is it the idea of destroying their own home? Or, is it the idea of Wilbur, standing amongst the rubble, smiling the entire time). Every mention of Manburg sends Tommy into a state of desperation. He’s tried to argue with Wilbur, reason with him, make him see that blowing up Manburg won’t solve anything. At this point, Wilbur doesn’t care about clean solutions and happy endings anymore. Wilbur knows that there’s no place for someone like him in one of those. So, he decides to play the part he was given and he decides to play it well. </p><p>Techno, on the other hand, is all for the idea of destruction. Techno’s an unorthodox ally but he is an important one nonetheless. A powerful anarchist with six wither skulls in his possession makes for a much better weapon than a right-hand man who stopped believing in him a long time ago. He doesn’t trust Techno, that much was proven the night the festival happened (the dirt on Tubbo’s grave is still fresh), but he trusts that they share a common goal and their hatred of the government aligns. </p><p>Pogtopia seems to get colder and colder as the days pass and all he can do is pull his coat around him tighter and hurry up the stone stairs that carry him to the surface. The sun against his skin warms him up a little, but it’s never enough to escape the bone-chilling cold that seems to have nested deep inside of him. </p><p>Wilbur makes his new base of operations inside the edge of a hill, a hill right behind the stage where he lost his presidency (where he lost everything). He spends weeks digging tunnels underneath Manburg and rigging everything to explode with a single push of a button (everything was ready to blow, only for him to lose the button at the festival. Now another founding father is lost). Tommy seems to have given up on him, (Wilbur can’t blame him. He’s already given up on himself, what’s one more person?) and he’s rarely seen at Pogtopia’s ravine. Sweet, darling Niki won’t look him in the eyes anymore after the declaration, the promise of Manburg’s demise. She simply backs away in horror and suddenly slips away in the night with Tommy.</p><p>Wilbur’s sure that they are conspiring together, trying to stop the explosion. Perhaps they are trying to stop two tyrants. Perhaps they are the real heroes of this story. It doesn’t matter. It won’t matter. One way or another, Manburg will go up in flames (and maybe that will be enough to chase away the ice). </p><p>The final control room will be his final act. The room isn’t spacious and certainly isn’t lively or welcoming. It’s empty, save for the bundles of dynamite leaning against the chipped stone walls. It’s here, Wilbur decides, that he will finally stop feeling so cold. He hums the old national anthem, even if it burns the back of his throat, as he carves away at the walls with nothing but an iron knife. He carves the names of the founding fathers on the walls, forcing the lands to remember their stories. He carves the lyrics onto the walls, forcing the lands to remember what their country and people stood for. He carves the name <em> L’manburg </em> onto the walls, and he forces the lands to remember what he used to fight for. (He carves all these things onto the walls, and forces himself to remember a time where he was warm).  </p><p>So, it’s only fitting that he hears the voice (<em> his voice </em>) and feels the suffocating (warm, loving) presence in the room where it’ll happen. </p><p>“What a shame. You always had such a beautiful voice.”</p><p>Wilbur doesn’t bother turning around. He already knows who it is. He knew as soon as they stepped foot through the long tunnel, the entrance to his grand finale. He tightens his grip on the knife and sternly faces the wall, all while continuing to carve away. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” he murmurs, suddenly very aware of how painful it is to speak (maybe it is the nightmares, maybe it is the shame, <em> maybe it is both </em>). </p><p>“Well, I didn’t want to miss my own son’s final act.” Philza’s lively blue eyes dart around, noting the large scrawls on the walls and the explosives surrounding them. “Nice place you have here.”</p><p>Wilbur scowls and stops dragging the knife across the wall (the shrieking from the knife against stone stops, but the shrieking in his head doesn’t). “Don’t pretend to be proud. I know what you really think of me. You think I’m a <em> monster </em>.” </p><p>Philza takes a step forward and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re confused. All through your exile, you’ve used fear and threats to lead people. People like your brothers, and Tubbo.”</p><p>“Well what other choice do I have?” Wilbur snarls, shoving the hand away. “Trust is for fools! Fear is the only reliable way. It’s the only way they’ll listen to me!”</p><p>Wilbur slams his hand against the wall and his knees buckle. “Even you fear me,” he whispers, heartbroken.</p><p>“No Wilbur,” Philza’s wings are enveloping him, embracing him. “I love you. I do. I’m always going to be proud of you.” </p><p>Wilbur lets out a strangled cry and whirls around, slashing across Philza’s chest. The knife meets no resistance and Philza’s image shatters. The warmth leaves Wilbur’s body and the biting cold returns.</p><p>Wilbur howls in frustration and throws his knife against the room. It hits the stone wall with a clang and the noise echoes throughout the empty room. Wilbur covers his face with his hands and slumps to the ground amongst the bundles and bundles of dynamite. He just wants his brothers, his friends back. He just wants things to go back to the way they were before.  He just doesn’t want to be <b>cold </b>anymore. Every single wish and dream makes him hope for another life where he never lost. Wilbur has never been so alone in his life. It’s clear now that he’s never going to be safe from the clutches of his own mind, in the waking world or in the world of dreams. </p><p>Head in his hands and tears in his eyes, he lets out a strangled sob. Sometimes, the daydreams are worse than the nightmares.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Daydreams is finally here, and with that, my angsty story about Wilbur's descent into madness comes to a close. Thank you for your continued support and patience with this story (it's my first multi-chapter fic) and I hope that you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun with this story and got to play around with different formatting. </p><p>Special thanks to EvenMadderHatter for her presence during this chapter (we called for like two hours and silently wrote our stories, it was great) it made me more productive :D</p><p>As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and fuel my motivation to write.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise! I'm back with another story and I'm not that late this time (*´∀｀*)</p><p>I took a lot of creative liberties with this one and I got a ton of inspiration from Avatar since the episode with Azula hallucinating her mom fit so perfectly with Wilbur (props to the comics of this I saw on Twitter, it was really cool). The title also comes from an Avatar episode and it's not even the same episode but it sounds cool anyway.</p><p>Thanks to EvenMadderHatter for helping me with some of my terrible grammar and beta-reading (i cannot for the life of me write properly) </p><p>Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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